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Although the clocks hand’s may twist and wind in an infinite tumble round It only takes but a moment in time for one to utter a sound.   A breath though silent means all the more as its heavy waves roll up the shore
The words cut like knives. The actions cut like swords. And I stand here... bleeding. By myself. With no one to hold me, And no one to love me. Your words cut like knives,
Family. What is implied in that one word? It would seem the world stakes a lot in it. That it is the all-encompasing. The all-solving. The Holy Grail.
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